


Accidents in Mesmerism

by ArtHistory



Category: Vampyr (Video Game)
Genre: Belly Kink, Food Kink, Hedonism, Hypnotism, Light Dom/sub, Light Sadism, M/M, Mesmerism, Stuffing, Teasing, Vampires, Voyeurism, Weight Gain, consensual voyeurism, vampire powers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-07-23 13:21:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16159784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtHistory/pseuds/ArtHistory
Summary: In practicing his vampiric abilities, Jonathan Reid unlocks some of his fellow doctor's rather...hedonistic sides.





	Accidents in Mesmerism

“Use this information as you will, so long as you don’t use it to take advantage of me”

The phrasing sent a dark chill down the vampire’s spine. A detailed note, pinned in the room Pembroke Hospital Administrator, Dr. Edgar Swansea had provided the vampire moments after begging him to work for the Pembroke, only moments after gushing about his obsession with vampires. The shorter, dark haired man was all excitement, desperation behind his dark-rimmed glasses, his handsome script signed with his full name and comments on all the abilities Jonathan now possessed as a member of the undead - specifically an Ekon. The most powerful of all the types of vampires.

Jonathan twirled the note in his hand, reading that last line again and again.

It was almost comedic, it was so blatant. The vampire fetishist, collecting a tall, handsome, strapping Ekon into his hospital, giving him an office, a  **bedroom** damn near the same size as the administrators, then innocently giving him everything he needed to know about his new powers. His strength, his abilities, his sheer, animal magnetism. 

Dr. Swansea might as well have bent over his desk, wiggling that tight, pert little arse of his in the air, and  **begged** Jonathan to-

“Take advantage of me.”

Edgar was simply adorable. A peach. Ready and excited to be snatched up. 

Devoured.

Jonathan shook his head. He was quite the attraction in the army, so the interest of men wasn’t entirely unique, but such low-hanging fruit was simply of no interest. He looked over the powers listed. He would need to practice them if he were going to defend the Pembroke from murderous vampire-hunters and creatures of the night. Standard fair for the myth. Strength, agility-

Mesmerism. 

Oh.

That could certainly be helpful for attempting to stop a raving killer, or convince a group to stop fighting. He’d quickly found out the ambulance driver and his lover were charging patients for beds, perhaps that disdainful practice was one he could put a stop to! He plucked up his coat, slipping it on and moving towards Pembroke Hospital’s courtyard.

“Ah! Doctor!” Milton Hooks had called out, mouth full of sandwich as he sat on the bumper of his hospital wagon.

“Milton, is this a good time? I was hoping we could talk.” Jonathan said, his voice going deeper as he approached

“Sorry, Dr. Reid, what’d you say?” The dark-skinned man smiled, swallowing his mouthful, “My girls food is made with such a crunch! Nothing like a fatty fry up to keep you warm on a night like this!” Milton beamed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Jonathan opened his mouth to respo-

“I am starting to believe, Mr. Hooks, that warmth is the last thing you need.” A sneering, disapproving voice came.

Dr. Waverly Ackroyd stepped away from his completed consultation and towards the two men, gesturing at the seated ambulance driver. Both he and Jonathan looked down, finding a notably round, cheery pot belly bulging out beneath Milton’s uniform.

“Alright, yeah, a touch of my girl’s fry-up’s have been sticking to me, but that’s nothing to be-”

“Mr. Hooks, you are often the first face patients see before they arrive at the Pembroke. If they see someone who appears not only lazy and overfed, but unprofessional, I weep for what our already shoddy reputation will become.” The middle-aged doctor spat, brows knitting, “You would do well with cutting down on such greasy food and focusing on taking in the night air. A simple walk around the courtyard would suffice.” Waverly finished.

Milton stood, opening his mouth to shout, when Jonathan moved between the men.

“Dr. Ackroyd” Jonathan had breathed, his voice still deep, low, almost quiet, though it echoed in Waverly’s mind. The doctor’s eyes went wide, locking on Jonathan’s.

“There are surely worse things than a bit of fat on one’s meal, a bit sugar in one’s tea. In fact, you would perhaps enjoy life more if indulgence became more commonplace in your sad, angry life.” Jonathan had fumed. Waverly was brilliant, but his aggressive attitude, his abrasive nature were unacceptable in speaking to other members of the hospital.

Jonathan only realized what he’d done when Waverly just stared back, looking happy, dazed. He fell back, Milton jumping up to tend to him as Jonathan looked about in panic. He spied Edgar watching him from his office window, then quickly darted inside.

“Oh! Dr. Reid! Might I a word?” The trim, handsome young Dr. Thoreau Strickland called out, quickly running over to Jonathan.

The vampire blinked, startled, saying without thinking,

“Is it really so terrible? To have an extra treat, to eat one’s fill? I do not think so. I need not worry!” Jonathan said, his voice still low, echoing in Thoreau’s mind, his eyes going glassy behind his glasses, his cupid’s bow lips falling open.

Jonathan’s eyes went wide, watching Thoreau smile dumbly, slumping dizzily against a nearby wall. The vampire had jumped, hurrying past the giggling man and back to his room.

That was two months ago.

“Dear Jonathan, It is with warm, if mildly concerned regards that I beg your attention this evening. I have noticed some...changes in Doctors Ackroyd and Strickland that I wonder if we could discuss. Sincerely Yours, Edgar”

Dr. Jonathan Reid had battled endless creatures of the night, drank the blood of dozens of vampire hunters. He had honed, grown, mastered his vampiric abilities. The humanity in him still glowed, but it was now meshed, mixed with something else. Something...different.

Jonathan read the note again. His breath grew hot, heavy as he drank in those tightly controlled words, found pinned to his wall as he awoke one night. So he had noticed. 

Everyone must have, at this point. 

Strickland and Akroyd were twice their former selves, and getting along better than they ever had before. It seemed a sudden, mutual appreciation of the gastronomic world had caused them to bond, or perhaps it had been the evening they’d both split their trousers after reaching for a dropped sample.

Waverly had swollen. Grown round and wide as his brain had been folded to crave sugar and fat. He’d stubbornly refused to get a new lab coat, the snow-white fabric now curtain highlighting the wide expanse of his great, hard gut. It spread the button of his tightly ironed shirt, entering the surgery long before he did. It barely bounced, wobbled, instead becoming planetary, melon-like in its forceful need to be seen. He’d watched Waverly gain a smug self-satisfaction whenever he was able to throw it around. Pressing it against patients who were attempting to rise from their beds too soon, knocking back a rather mouthy delivery boy, slotting it ‘innocently’ into the back of whomever’s attention he was demanding, giving a false chuckle about not fully realizing how much he’d grown.

Jonathan had spied him admiring his massive, rotund figure in one of the changing rooms with glee. Slowly unbuttoning his screaming button-up, watching as more and more hard, taut belly spilled forward into the open air, an respectable pair of tits resting atop it as he shed the thing completely. Waverly’s plump hand had snaked southward, cupping the whale-like mass about his waist with sausage-like fingers, hoisting the great pudding up and dropping it, watching it finally wobble, bouncing like a ball instead of an ocean. The middle-aged doctor had looked almost...proud. As if he were growing a mountain of sheer self-worth atop his once-skeletal frame, as if his hard, solid fat held together in a wide sphere from force of will alone. Waverly reached for his belt, and Jonathan had purposefully made a sound, his foot stomping outside the window. He’d let himself be seen walking by, but Waverly’s response had been…

Oh, so wonderfully unexpected.

The dark-haired surgeon had looked to the window, eyes wide, cheeks pink as he spied Jonathan. His hands flew to pointlessly cover his massive body. One chubby arm stretched across the center of his great, wide belly, pressing into it, the firm cream flooding out above and below it, the other pressed to his tits, squashing them together decadently.

Then, Waverly had turned, facing the mirror once again.

His fat fingers slowly undid his belt. He sucked in dramatically, struggling performatively with his button before gasping, his gut flooding forward, forcing down the zipper of his trousers, chubby fists sliding the comically tight things down his thick, juicy thighs.

Jonathan grinned, stepping closer to the window, watching Waverly watch him take in the show. He undid his fly, snaking out his cock and beginning to pump.

Waverly flushed, his breath catching in his throat as he hurriedly stepped out his trousers, turning so he completely faced the window. He slid a hand down his belly, grabbing tight handfuls of the hard fat, taking each love handle in his palms, wobbling the huge mass of his gut, his own undergarments tenting outwards.

Jonathan purred at the memory of it. They all wanted this, the great men of sciences. Decent men with good intentions that think themselves heroes, martyrs as they slave away for the good of the poor, the downtrodden, when they could be smoking cigars and drinking whiskey. They wanted praise. Attention. To be seen. Petted. Have everything their ego told them confirmed.

Gods they were so easy to train.

Waverly had turned those, his thumb tracing the stretched fabric of his undergarments, slowly lowering them down his wide, white arse. Two enormous moons of snow white cream.

Jonathan had nodded, pumping faster, rewarding attention to the show Waverly was so eagerly putting on. The doctor had given his fat arse a sharp  **slap** , clearly enjoying the mark of it, the burn, now standing nude in the room before Jonathan.

The vampire allowed himself to finish, even going so far as pretending to stable himself on the windowsill, the enormous performer blushing bright, fumbling with his own cock around his comically in-the-way gut, blushin brighter and brighter as he found it so difficult to even touch himself, letting alone pump his skinny member. Jonathan only watched, visibly amused as the more and more embarrassed Waverly finally came, his orgasm causing his eyes to roll back in his head, fall dramatically to his knees. 

No wonder the man was such an ass, Jonathan had thought, he hasn’t had a good fuck in years.

It had been a week and they still hadn’t spoken about the incident, but Jonathan noted with some pride that Waverly’s snacks were beginning to join him whenever he did his rounds, mouth always full whenever his stoic, rude remarks were spat out.

Some dogs always barked, no matter how much you trained them.

But where Waverly Ackroyd had blown up like a hot air balloon, Thoreau Strickland had softened, like a gingerbread cookie. The excitable young doctor with the owl-eyed glasses was looking simply...pillowy was the only word. Like Waverly, Thoreau’s middle had been the first thing to swell, but his fat little tummy wasn’t rock, but dough. Thick, rich, and decadently soft, it didn’t take long for the rest of his wiry frame to puff up with buttery lard. His cheeks grew chubby, pinchable, making the young doctor look approachable and kind. His neck and shoulders now padded, tracing down plump arms that wobbled as he wrote. A wide, mountainous gut quaked with each small movement, a generous lip of smooth cream blorping out over his constantly-tight trousers, which the young doctor had complained he’d let out more than twice since his “talk” with Jonathan. A handsome set of squeezable love handles rested at his sides, a thick stack of rolls plopped atop them. His hips had widened to the point they nearly kissed the doorway to his office, spilling out over the chairs of the hospital’s break room, where Jonathan could so-often hear the young man moaning, groaning as he stuffed himself on any foodstuff foolish enough to be left there unattended.

One particular night, just after Jonathan’s wonderful little show from Waverly, the vampire had made a point of stuffing the cabinets, the icebox of the room with enough treats to feed an army.

He’d watched Thoreau enter, watched his greedy little eyes go wide with glee. Watched him lick his lips so devilishly before fall upon the ice box like a starving man. Cakes and pies with decimated, Thoreau’s hands sticky, shining with sugar and fat as he abandoned all utensils and simply  **gorged** . He’d stumbled up from the empty thing belching, lowest button on his shirt burst off, his soft gut peaking out into the open air. He looked stuffed. Full. Sated.

Then he’d spied the cabinets.

The greedy young man couldn’t help himself, Jonathan imagined, as he tore open the cabinets only to find them full. His eyes shined with gluttony, hands reaching out as his gut plopped and spread along the counter.

Button after button surrendered as Thoreau’s doughy gut swelled and swelled, his cheeks bulging, throat bobbing as his fat fingers stuffed more and more into his constantly open mouth. His stomach tired to cry out, beg for mercy, but the surgeon’s moans of unadulterated pleasure washed them out. 

Jonathan had never seen such perfection, catching the final visage of the sleepy doctor’s food-stained face as he waddled out of the break room, trying to creep to his office.

He’d jumped, forcing out a deep, wet belch when Jonathan appeared just before his office door.

“D-Dr. Reid! I-” Thoreau had hiccuped, another belch interrupting him, whining as his hands went to his aching, over bloated belly.

“I-I just couldn’t stop! I can’t control myself around food any more. And there was just so *HURP* much” He’d panted, blushing beet red as he found his gut bare, naked to the world, his belt snapped, trousers only staying up from the great stretch of his overfed form.

He stammered again, as if seeing his body for the first time, grabbing handful after handful of dough before

“Nothing wrong with that, Dr. Strickland. You work very hard. Don’t you deserve the occasional treat?” Jonathan had purred, Thoreau gasping as Jonathan’s warm hand found his right breast, squeezing it teasingly

“I-I-”

“You’re a brilliant young doctor. A bit of decadence is earned, isn’t it?” Jonathan asked, innocently sliding his other hand to the man’s enormous gut, feeling how tight, how full his stomach was beneath an ocean of snowy lard. Thoreau only whimpered, gasping.

Good lord scientists were touch starved. 

“Why I might even...ah, I do.” Jonathan cooed, taking his hand off Thoreau’s tit and taking a small biscuit from his own, jacket pocket.

Thoreau’s greedy eyes widened, Jonathan holding the biscuit out before him teasingly.

“I...I might pop.” Thoreau panted, flushing as his voice came out much lower than he’d expected. Jonathan simply moved the biscuit closer, the mortal surgeon leaning forward to bite into it with a pounding heart. His busted trousers tented, Jonathan smiling as he felt the fattened doctor’s form press into him. He squeezed the doctor’s meaty moob once again, supporting his weight as the man panted, groaned under his clever hands.

“D-Don’t stop” Thoreau begged, chewing and swallowing as Jonathan rubbed, massaged, wobbled-

Thoreau bit back a cry, a dark spot appearing below the thick lower lip of his gut. He flushed bright, swallowing hard and hurrying off, looking over his shoulder to see if Jonathan was admiring his great, wide arse before closing the door.

Jonathan, of course, was.

And now he stood in the doorway of Dr. Edgar Swansea’s office. His handsome, muscular form filled it, light of the hallway throwing a dozen shadows across Edgar’s office.

“Ah, Jonathan! Do come in!” Edgar said, smiling as he finished up a letter. He heard the door close.

“I know it’s been several weeks now, but now that London has begun to settle down, I find it important that we discuss how you...y-you…” Edgar trailed off, gulping as the vampire stalked like a tiger across his office. Jonathan’s eyes looked amused, his head cocked to the side, as if listening intently.

Edgar gulped.

“The...the other doctors. Waverly and Thoreau. You mesmerized them.” Edgar said, his mouth so very dry as Jonathan was suddenly upon him. He tensed, swallowing hard, his breath coming in short, hot pants. Edgar relaxed only slightly as Jonathan settled his perfect, muscular arse atop his desk, crossing his legs and leaning an elbow on them, nodding as if he was listening to a child describe a blue sky.

“You didn’t feed on them. You got them to…” Edgar paused, why was he so breathless? He hiccuped, fiddling with his belt, his fingers, his lips feeling sticky.

“I got them to what, Edgar?” Jonathan asked, eyes innocent as he gazed into Edgar’s

The doctor’s heart pounded, he swallowed again, only barely hearing the smallest *clink* of ceramic. Had he a cup of tea on his desk? Jonathan must have moved it aside.

“You got them to...w-well-” Edgar cleared his throat, “I had originally assumed, when I saw you mesmerize Dr. Akroyd, that you meant to kill him. I will admit I had no safeguards in place for you, or any other Ekon, to go after healthy patients. You seemed a man of honor, and Lady Ashbury informed you of her...easing the suffering of terminal patients. I was scandalized, horrified when I saw you so easily capture Waverly’s mind, but then you...well you didn’t kill him, did you?” Edgar said, coughing. He smacked his lips. Why was his mouth so dry?

“I certainly didn’t.” Jonathan purred, his huge hands sliding a teacup into Edgar’s, the doctor flushing as he took it, drank without question. Gods it was sweet! Had he always used so much sugar?

Edgar set the suddenly empty cup before him on his desk, watching as Jonathan spread his legs, those thick, muscular thighs like pythons, as Jonathan moved himself directly before Edgar, those meaty monsters at eye-level with the doctor. Edgar, for a half-second, prayed Jonathan would simply smother him with them. He shook his head, continuing.

“No you...well they. Waverly began to actually take him dinner break, along with a number of tea breaks.” Edgar said, mouth watering as his eyes flicked between Jonathan’s handsome, bearded face and his bulging crotch.

“A-And Thoreau followed suit. Our best surgeons finally taking care of themselves. I was over the moon.’ Edgar said, “But then we were running out of tea cakes, and sugar, and I was suddenly aware that our monthly budget for such little, staff luxuries had been spent in just two days!” Edgar finished, swearing he saw Jonathan’s crotch begin to tent.

“And so I volunteered some funds.” Jonathan replied, his light pupils going wide, his breath a bit ragged, “Please, Dr. Swansea, do continue.”

“I...w-well they’ve gotten...gotten-”

“Fat?” Jonathan smiled, baring his fangs as he leaned in, catching  Edgar’s second chin between his thumb and first finger, grinning wider, “And what exactly does that make you?”

Edgar gasped, then looked down.

Where once was a tight, trim waist now bulged a mountain of warm, soft lard. A gut so large his thighs, thick as honied hams, needed to be spread so it could drop between them. A perky set of breasts rested atop it, Edgar’s hands flying to them in shock, mouth falling open as he saw that they too were plump, podgy.

Jonathan cackled, leaning forward further to squeeze the man’s plump, apple cheeks, watching as Edgar’s flushed red.

“I...y-you mesmerized me too?” Edgar panted, his stomach wobbling as he quivered with excitement, arousal, “Took something inside me, greed, a-and woke it up?” Edgar added, hands smoothing down his wide, fat gut, grabbing handfuls of warm cream.

“Oh, Edgar” Jonathan smiled, kissing the man now, monstrous cock tenting his trousers, the doctor’s mouth watering at the sight of it, “I didn’t even have to.”

Edgar blinked, “Y-You didn’t-”

“Good piggy.” Jonathan purred

Edgar’s whole body was like lightning, pleasure pulsing through him. He gasped, finally seeing the empty plates stacked on his desk, tasting the leftover jam on his lips.

“You were so ready, so eager. Once you saw the attention the Waverly and Thoreau got, well, training you didn’t take much.” Jonathan purred, Edgar’s hands reaching out, latching onto his thighs. They squeezed the hot, tight muscle there, Edgar’s nose diving for Jonathan’s crotch, inhaling the rich scent of the vampire

“A compliment here, and smile there. You were eating out of him hand, literally” Jonathan grinned, sliding his fingers into Edgar’s hair and tugging, the obedient man looking up, salivating, “What do you say I find Dr. Ackroyd and Dr. Strickland, Edgar?” Edgar nodded, already beginning to unbutton his shirt

“I think it’s time I let all my piggies play together.”


End file.
